Lovebites
by SaraBarns
Summary: Gilbert was my favorite artist, and I was his favorite piece of modern art, the kind that only the best connoisseurs could appreciate, as he put it. I was his "most awesome masterpiece," and he was my artsy-fartsy gay boyfriend, and I loved him to death. Hickey-centered Prumano fluff, T for Romano's mouth & implications.


**A/N:** Ahaha, yeah, another drabble... Really. I kind of love this pairing though. And SpUK? Yeah. Strange charm, but it's there. Anyway, enjoy! T for 'Mano's mouth. Other than that, fluff 'n hickies.

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"Ow, what the fuck was that for?! You just BIT me!" I gasped, my whole body tensing. I brought my hand up to cup my neck to protect it from the sharp teeth that had just pulled away from my skin, and gaped at the man in bed with me. "Who the fuck ruins that kind of moment by BITING their partner? Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Mmn, because I love how you taste~" my partner sighed. He stretched out, and rested his head on his hands, completely unconcerned.

"Fuck..." I groaned. "Now you got me all fucking tense, and now my back hurts. Go fix it, dammit. Get me a fucking painkiller. Now. You're the one who fucked me too hard in the first place."

"You mean I was too awesome for you to handle~ Kesesese~" Prussia grinned.

"Fucking-" I started, then just settled for smacking the side of his head.

"Okay okay, mein gott," Gilbert griped, as he rolled out of bed and crossed the room to grab the pill bottle on the floor near my bureau. I'd needed painkillers last night, too, and since he was too lazy to put them back where they belonged, he'd thrown them at my bureau, and missed quite spectacularly. "But you enjoyed it. You turned totally red~"

"Because you just bit my fucking neck!" I argued. He handed me the painkillers, and the glass of water from last night, still on the bedside table. To make sure he got what I was getting at, I added, "I'm pretty sure anyone would turn red! J-Just because you're a fucking perverted cabbage doesn't mean I am too!" before downing the pills with the water, and handing him back the glass.

"Maybe I should try it again then, just to check~" Gilbert purred, sliding back into bed, and pushing himself up on one elbow to hover over me. He darted down and nipped at my neck again. "Mm, that's good... I think I'll have some more~"

"Motherfucker! Ow, ow! No, no more sex, I mean it! Ow, dammit!" I yelped- I mean, shouted in a manly and masculine fashion, as I shoved him off, and -painfully- scooted over to the other end of the bed, before crossing my arms and pout- SCOWLING.

"Alright, alright, no sex. Just bites. Now get back over here so I can continue enjoying myself."

"You want to... bite my neck?" I asked skeptically. "That's what you consider enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, that's what I just said, isn't it? Are you coming, or not? Because even though it's not until this afternoon, I can go to that meeting early. I'm sure West wouldn't complain..."

"Alright, alright!" I gave in, and wriggled my way back over to his side, where he raised his arm to accommodate me, and I nestled into the space between it and his torso. "No need to get touchy, dammit. But seriously. Biting?"

"Well I'm not going to bite HARD, dummkopf!" He snapped, before nuzzling into my hair, and adding, "That's for other nights~" I shivered. Yes, other nights indeed. "But yes, I enjoy leaving gentle love bites on you. Because you belong to me and everyone should know."

The thought of him biting me for possessive reasons sent a shiver down my spine, and I shifted so I could have even more physical contact with him. "P-Perverted bastard. That's so... s-sensual. And sweet, I guess," I muttered. "Dammit. You make me feel so weird sometimes. B-But I love you, you stupid cabbage."

"Ich lieb dich auch, Roma," Gil smiled, before burying his face in the juncture between my chin and shoulder again, and laving over the first few bite marks with his tongue.

I shuddered as he gently bit down on the skin of my neck again, applying more and more pressure with each passing second. Then he would slowly pull away, and blow softly on each mark, before dragging his tongue along them to soothe the inflammation. He decorated the lightly tanned expanse of my neck with dark purple blotches one by one, until I was writhing and squirming beneath him.

My entire neck would be nearly black by the end of the day, but I didn't mind. I was looking forward to it, actually. Because they were from Gilbert, and no matter how much I complained about having to wear scarves to hide them, I loved his hickies.

I loved the jealous looks France would shoot Prussia, I loved the concerned frowns Spain would wear, even while being torn between congratulating us and killing us, and I loved the smirk Prussia wore every time he looked at me and saw those dark, intimate signatures. Artist's signatures, they might as well have been. My neck was his canvas, and every time we consummated our love, he'd sign it again.

Gilbert was my favorite artist, and I was his favorite piece of modern art, the kind that only the best connoisseurs could appreciate, as he put it. I was his "most awesome masterpiece," and he was my artsy-fartsy gay boyfriend, and I loved him to death.

Did we fight? Hell yes. That's like asking, "Do artists get artist's block?" "Does canvas ever wrinkle?" Yeah, we had our scuffles, and we both could be stubborn bastards, and we had a lot of unnecessary fights on top of the usual ones. But that's love, for you, dammit. What's passion without a little fire? Love bites, but then, love also _bites_.

And I'd wear his love bites as badges for the next week, to tell everyone that I was passionate, and that I wasn't a lonely bastard. Hickies were products of sex, love bites were products of love making.


End file.
